The Sa'yc Legacy
by The Stars At Night
Summary: SWTOR. The background story of trooper Akaan'ade Sa'yc. Akaan'ade, accompanied by his smuggler friend, Nadal'a Darklighter, go to get top priority data from a secret base. What they find is nothing compared to who finds them.


The Sa'yc Legacy

_* * *  
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars the Old Republic. Player characters in this story are made by me(and my sister).  
Author's Note: No podiums were hurt in the making of this story. But chairs, droids, walls and floors, unfortunately were.  
P.S. Akaan'ade is a silly one.  
* * *_

"Leftenent?" Elara asked. She seemed to say less the more confused she was.

"Yes, Elara," Akaan'ade gently probed.

"What are you doing?" She asked as her "Leftenent" flapped his arms side-to-side. It actually looked kind of graceful, in that weird, Akaan'ade, way.

"Dancing," he answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "We gotta do something while this data downloads."

"Dancing?" Elara asked again. "Leftene-"

"You wanna dance with me, Elara? Come on, get over here. There's plenty room in this comm. room."

Nadal'a suppressed a laugh as Elara just gazed at her leader, whom was dancing like a maniac.

"Come on," he coaxed, taking her by a hand, "You know you want to."

"I'm sorry, Leftenent, your dancing skills are just…"

"Amazing? Astounding? Come on, Elara, dance with me and I'll leave you alone."

"I'd hate to interrupt your dance lessons, but I have a bad feeling about this," Nadal'a shamelessly interjected.

Everyone stopped to look at her, and Nadal'a didn't fail to notice that Akaan'ade still had a hold on Elara's hand.

"Like what kinda bad feeling?" Corso's Mantellian accent spoke from behind her.

Nadal'a didn't even flinch as the door busted open.

"Alright, put your hands up where I can see them," a female voice, no accent, spoke up with authority.

Nadal'a's back was to the door, but she didn't need to be a Jedi to feel the danger.

"That kinda bad feeling," she whispered under her breath, looking up to meet Akaan'ade's wide eyes.

"Put them up or I won't hesitate to cut your heart out," another female voice, imperial accent, spoke rather harshly.

They all complied, raising their hands slowly in the air.

"Now turn to face me, slowly," the female, with no accent, commanded.

Nadal'a turned as commanded, gaze meeting two women.

One of the two women had short brown hair, and blazing deep blue eyes, and two blasters trained on all of them.

The other woman had reddish-brown hair, and two lightsabers held backwards in each hand.

She had the same deep blue eyes.

And so did Akaan'ade.

"Akaan'ade Sa'yc, correct?" the one with the accent, and the lightsaber, asked, menace dripping out of her voice like a drenched rag.

"Yes. That's me," he answered, voice calm and steady. "I am the one you're looking for."

Nadal'a wanted to slap him outside the head for giving up that easily.

"See, sis, I told you not to worry about a thing. I could see him from miles away, no matter where we are," the one with the blasters stated with a cocky grin.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Akaan'ade asked, stepping between his friends and the strange women.

"You don't recognize us, Lieutenant Sa'yc? Leader of the prestigious Havoc Squad? Friend of Nadal'a Darklighter and Corso Riggs? Son of General Agyn Meidi and Mandalorian Naya Sa'yc? Please, I could go on all day," the one with the blasters spoke, competent smirk on her face.

"Wipe that smile off your face," Nadal'a commanded. "Or I think I might just have to punch it off."

"Ooh, feisty," the Sith purred. "But that attitude won't serve you well when she can shoot you, or when I can chop your head off and give your brains to my friend's Dashade, he'd really appreciate the gesture."

"Creepy," was her response.

"Tell me who you are." Akaan'ade sounded tired of their games, but then, they all were.

"I'm Beroya," the one with the guns stated. Then she tilted her head towards the other, "And this is my sister, Mesh'la."

"So you are Mandalorians. Why are you being so mean to one of your own?" Akaan'ade asked, his attention fixed on that one question.

"You consider yourself one of us? We thought you were just a Republic drone," Mesh'la stated.

"Yes. I am Mandalorian. And no, I am not 'just a Republic drone.' I am a soldier. I fight for what I feel right, not for what people try to feed into my head."

"Really? Your father took you and left your mother. He was a Republic drone. I thought that he'd raise his son to uphold every single belief he had. That he would raise his son to be what he called strong!" Beroya's face was getting red with anger, while Mesh'la seemed kind of withdrawn.

"Excuse me? My father raised me to be a man of my own. He taught me to believe in myself. To trust my gut. He taught me the ways of the Republic, the ways of freedom and hope," Akaan'ade fought back. "My father was an amazing man."

"Was," Beroya picked up. "What happened to him?"

"He was killed in this blasted war."

"By who?"

"I- I don't know. He made his friend take me while he stood up to the intruder."

"Hrm. So I guess Mom gave Dad an honorable death. I still find it sad that she couldn't get her son back. She missed you so much, Akaan'ade. You have no idea what it is like to lose two of your children because someone you loved didn't help you like they promised to," Beroya's voice was soft, now.

Nadal'a looked between the three.

Beroya seemed hollow, blasters lowered as she desperately searched Akaan'ade's face.

Mesh'la looked quite confused, lightsabers still held, but with relaxed hands paired by wide eyes.

Now would be the perfect time to attack, but Nadal'a didn't think anyone was going to risk causing trouble.

Akaan'ade dropped his hands down to his sides. His head was tilted downwards, letting Nadal'a only guess at what he felt. The only way she could have guessed, however, was at his ridged stance and shaking shoulders.

"How did this happen?" Akaan'ade choked out. "How are we all like this?"

"I'll spare you the story of when Mom met Dad. They fell in love, but- I mentioned how Dad was with the Republic and Mom with the Mandalorians?" At her brother's nod, she continued. "The Mandalorians and the Republic always clashed, so it wouldn't go down for either side if they had married. Actually, just Dad would've been in trouble. Mom was part of the Mandalorian group that Ann Sa'yc started, the group that wanted peace. So Mom and Dad lived on like that, the relationship only known in the Mandalorian clans of Ordo and Sa'yc.

"After they had me, things got rough. Then they had Mesh'la. And you. At Dad's request, Mom moved with us- away from Mandalore. When I was six, Mesh'la only three, and you not even one, the Imps raided the planet, and took Mesh'la. As the creepy man choked Mom, he said that Mesh'la had an amazing Force presence, and that she was worthy of Darth Revan's family line. Then he left.

"Dad was nowhere to be seen. The next time we saw him was when he took you. Mom did everything she could to stop him, but she was weakened by a cancer. I was only seven. I tried, Kaan, I tried to keep him from taking you, but I wasn't enough," her voice was laced with deep emotions, but her eyes reflected her story. Harsh and hopeless.

"So this is all that happened?" Akaan'ade softly asked, finally raising his face to hers.

"No. Mom swore to kill Dad for being dishonorable. For letting them take Mesh'la. For abandoning us. For taking you. It was hard. Harder than you could imagine. She was bent on revenge. And I carried her burden with her. Mom was never the same. Life just slipped apart. After she came home the day she killed Dad, she seemed at peace. We could be _happy_ again. Even if it was only the two of us. But she died the next day." Beroya was calm again- or as calm as one could be given the situation.

Akaan'ade turned and started to pace.

"That's why we are like this," Beroya stated.

"What did Mom look like?" Akaan'ade asked, voice soft.

"Just like you."

He turned to look back at Beroya, speechless, when a man entered the room.

"Is this them, Beroya?" the man, dressed in Mandalorian armor asked, gently putting a hand on her shoulder.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "Yes, Torian. This is my brother. Akaan'ade Sa'yc." She was really calm, now. It seemed as if this _Torian_ was her anchor in her messed up life.

"Torian?" Akaan'ade repeated.

"He's my boyfriend," Beroya stated, answering the unspoken question.

"It has been a pleasure to finally meet the rest of clan Sa'yc," Torian smiled.

"Family is more than blood," Akaan'ade spoke. "And this is my family."

Nadal'a felt herself smile at their group's significance. "Aww, how cute."

"Spoken like a true Mandalorian," Torian stated, reaching out a hand for Akaan'ade to shake.

He took it, shaking the hand and meeting the gaze.

"We all seem to have rough childhoods. Families torn asunder," Akaan'ade stated, turning to look his friends in the eyes, one by one.

"Maybe we can talk more on our ship?" Torian asked.

"How can I truly trust you?" Akaan'ade inquired, turning back to meet his gaze.

"Beroya has fought her whole life to find the two of you. Don't you think it'd be silly if she just threw all her efforts to waste?" Torian pointed out.

Akaan'ade nodded, and when he moved to leave, everyone followed him, leaving the data forgotten.

General Garza would be furious.

.

They were all seated in the briefing room, eyeing each other curiously.

It had been an interesting day, going on another dangerous mission, to be confronted by a group of people who turned out to be your siblings.

Akaan'ade stood behind his podium, looking at everyone in turn.

Torian was seated on one of the chairs, holding Beroya on his lap.

They looked happy, and comfortable, together, Akaan'ade noted as he smiled.

In a chair next to them, Mesh'la sat stiffly, hands folded in her lap, focused on her fidgeting thumbs.

Across from them, Nadal'a sat next to Corso. The grin on her face showed that she was flustering Corso in some way.

On the other side of Nadal'a, there was an empty seat, saved just for him, and next to that empty seat sat a wide-eyed Elara.

Akaan'ade had a feeling that this situation struck a little too close to home for her; Elara had defected to the Republic and fought against her family everyday.

Then there was Jorgan showing disapproval, as always, as he leaned on the door frame.

After a moment, Akaan'ade gave a slight sigh, and then spoke. "This is the home of Havoc Squad, this BT-7 Thunderclap's name is _The Storm_, and I ask that you are respectful of her, and of us."

"This is only a temporary truce," the shy Mesh'la spoke up. "I am Sith, so I might have to kill you."

Akaan'ade sighed, making his way from behind the podium to the chair they had saved for him. "Hopefully not."

He sat down, noticing the weird looks everyone was giving Mesh'la.

"What?" Mesh'la asked, innocently, if Sith could be innocent. "We Sith are very unpredictable." She proceeded to take her lightsaber off her belt, igniting the blade. She looked into the red glow before casually tossing the still ignited saber over her shoulder.

Akaan'ade just watched as the blade spun in the air, and speared 4X.

"Sir," the droid called out. "It appears that my cranium has been damaged."

Nadal'a was laughing by now, the sound growing louder by each passing second.

"Don't worry Emmex, I'll save you," Akaan'ade stated heroically, getting up from his chair, walking to the droid.

He took the hilt in his hand, and in his attempt to dislodge it from the droid's head, he cut it in half.

Then he turned, worry crossing his face. The red blade cut an indent into _The Storm's_ wall, sending sparks flying. "How do you turn this thing off?" he asked, hefting the blade.

"First off, stop waving it around," Corso called in his accent, the statement sending Nadal'a from her chair to the floor.

"How would you know? You're no Jedi," Akaan'ade was being serious this time, still waving the saber as he spoke.

"Sir," Jorgan interjected, shaking his head in disapproval, "You're cutting holes in the wall."

Akaan'ade dropped to his knees. "No! Why! I'm so sorry Stormy!"

In his sorrow, Akaan'ade failed to notice the saber cutting gashes into the floor.

Torian put his chin on Beroya's shoulder. "He's _your_ brother?" he whispered into her ear.

"Yep," she answered.

"Someone get that thing away from him," Corso nearly shouted as he stood, stepping over the body of a hysterical Nadal'a.

"Alright, alright," the Sith Warrior intoned, lazily reaching up, using the Force to pull her weapon away from her brother.

As the saber flew through the air, it cut the top off of one of the vacant chairs.

Mesh'la shrugged as she turned off the blade and clipped the hilt to her belt.

Akaan'ade slowly stood, stroking the damaged walls of his beloved ship.

"So, Kaan, what happened to you after Dad took you?" Beroya asked curiously, once her brother was seated.

"I trained. And trained. And trained. When I was younger, I studied the stars, and planets, and fighting forms. As I got older, I actually got to visit those planets, and practice those fighting forms.

"When I reached seventeen, I decided that I wanted to join the Republic's military. So I found a recruiter, who happened to be one of Dad's good friends, and I signed up for it. They took me into training the day I turned eighteen, and not even a month into training, I learned that my Dad was pulling strings in an attempt to get my trainers to bump me up. I told him that if I was going to be a soldier, that I was going to earn the right.

"I didn't want any of the immediate respect that I would receive from being a General's son, so I decided to go by Mom's last name. I pushed my way through the training, and I graduated at the top of my class. I showed him that I could do it.

"Then, as you put it, Mom made quite a show of coming to kill Dad, destroying the ship as she went. Dad's recruiter friend took me to the escape pods. We were the only ones that made it.

"After that, I was assigned to Havoc Squad. It was Dad's dying request. And now, here I am," Akaan'ade finished strongly.

"Seems like Dad's still following you," Mesh'la pointed. "You got promoted pretty fast."

"Yes," Beroya added. "How long were you in the Republic army?"

"The training took a year, then I was in the normal army until I was twenty-two. That was when I was assigned to Havoc Squad, and I've been with them ever since."

"How long have you been with Havoc?" Beroya asked.

"A little over ten months," Akaan'ade answered. "But that's enough of me. Let's hear your story, Mesh'la."

"Hey- Imma Sith. Kill, kill, kill," she casually reported. "That's about it, really."

Before anyone could say any more, a soft beeping called for their attention.

Akaan'ade's eyes widened, and he paused a moment before pulling his comlink out of his shirt pocket.

It sat in his hands, softly chirping, waiting for his attention.

"Are you going to answer that?" Beroya asked after a moment's near silence.

He nodded, getting up out of his chair to stand in one of the corners.

"What are you doing?"

"Answering my call," he innocently answered, getting Jorgan's disapproval.

"In a corner?!" she scoffed.

"Yes."

"Why?" Beroya asked.

"I need my privacy."

"But I can still see-"

"Hush- it's General Garza!" he interjected, hesitating a moment before pressing the button.

"Lieutenant, where are you?" the General asked. "Did you get the data?"

"I'm sorry General Garza," Akaan'ade replied. "I-I can't hear you. I'm, uh, under water."

Then he hung up.

"Leftenent? You just hung up on General Garza. _General Garza!_"

"Let's go get that data... Again."

The End


End file.
